


Folding Papers

by Lacertae



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Gift Giving, M/M, Omnics, Origami, Personal Growth, Post-Recall, Pre-Canon, Pre-Recall, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 14:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10765821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: *Genji/Zenyatta* After his first year at the Shambali monastery, Genji finds himself approaching Mondatta for help with something rather important.





	Folding Papers

**Folding Papers**

 

It was a rare thing for Genji to seek Mondatta out.

The first few months of his stay at the Shambali monastery, Genji had been reclusive, quiet and withdrawn. That had slowly changed thanks to the way Zenyatta had wormed his way past his defences, and through his insistent yet gentle coaxing, Genji had started to open up more, and make small, fleeting contact with others who lived there as well, and yet… it was no secret Genji still did not find it easy to reach out for help.

Especially from others who were not Zenyatta.

Even now that an entire year had gone by, there was still distance between Genji and the other residents –one Zenyatta was thawing out relentlessly, yet one all the same.

Due to that, Genji willingly approaching someone unless prompted by his master was a rare occurrence, which was why it was easy for Mondatta to notice his presence.

After all, Genji might be silent and quiet, but he was not invisible nor skilled enough to go completely undetected, not for someone who had lived in the monastery for as long as Genji had been alive.

Over the past week, Genji appeared to follow Mondatta wherever he went. He hovered in the background like an ominous ghost, never speaking nor approaching Mondatta, but his obvious staring had started to unnerve many of the initiates, though Mondatta found his presence amusing.

If Mondatta happened to be in the meditation room, assisting younger students during their practice, he would feel Genji’s eyes follow him from the archway, never moving from there, as if entering the room would trap him there.

If Mondatta took a walk through the monastery, he would soon feel Genji’s familiar presence tailing him, a good distance away, and would only desist and leave if Mondatta found someone to talk with while walking.

As evening reached its peak and the last rounds and jobs were completed and it was time to retire, Mondatta could feel Genji’s lingering gaze on him before he left to accompany Zenyatta to his room.

The next morning the cycle would begin anew. Genji never approached him, but it was obvious he had something in his mind and Mondatta allowed him his space, not wanting to force a confrontation unless Genji initiated one himself. Once ready, Genji would come to him on his own, of that he was certain.

As it happened, Mondatta was right.

He was standing nearby the monastery’s main gates, robes fluttering slightly in the cold breeze of the early morning, when he sensed someone approach him from behind.

The sound of feet on the cold pavement was familiar to him, so he knew already who it was; he politely turned around, hands behind his back, to meet Genji’s covered visor with his own optical sensors.

“Good morning, Genji”.

He received a curt nod in reply, then after a short hesitation, Genji spoke up. “I have… a question, master Mondatta”.

“It is a fine morning for a walk through our gardens, is it not?” he offered in lieu of a reply. “Do you want to accompany me?”

It was clear Genji was relieved, because the tension in his shoulders eased as he followed Mondatta out into the crispy morning air.

As usual, mornings were incredibly cold during the season, snow dusting the tops of the mountains surrounding the monastery, and the soil crunched under their weight as they walked around the outer walls of the monastery, headed for the vegetable garden.

While omnics did not need to eat –most had the necessary implements, but not the ability to taste the food– there were many human acolytes or visitors, so the Shambali had set up an area where to grow flowers, fruits and vegetables, with carefully set weather conditions controlled by small drones and tech-robots.

The greenhouse was fairly large, and the rows of soil were already sporting delicate, tiny sprouts that would grow, in the following months, into sturdy plants of tomatoes, potatoes and other simple foods, surrounded by bushes of neatly assembled flowers and berries, with a few taller trees sporting already the first fruits.

There were a couple monks observing one of the trees, talking with one another about something or other, but they were far enough that Mondatta knew his talk with Genji would not be disrupted.

As the silence stretched on, Mondatta allowed his mind to wander, pleased by the quiet of the garden and by Genji’s newfound resolution to talk.

It did not take him long –despite the clear reticence, Genji was unable to be patient with most things, and this was no different.

“I…” he cleared his throat, and Mondatta could detect something akin to embarrassment in the way he shuffled, fingers restless at his sides, minute details of his countenance that betrayed his hesitation. “There has been something in my mind as of late”.

Mondatta hummed but did not interrupt him. He was curious –Genji had approached him willingly, rather than talk with Zenyatta as usual, and that was weird enough as it was to warrant his curiosity. There were not many things Genji would want to keep secret from Zenyatta at this point –their bond had flourished, and Genji’s trust in Zenyatta was absolute.

It was a pleasure to see how much Genji had healed already, though there was still a long way to go. Mondatta could only feel pride for them both –for Zenyatta’s stubborn refusal to let Genji drown in his own pain, and for Genji who had accepted the offered help and allowed himself the chance to heal.

“It’s been almost a year,” Genji’s voice attracted Mondatta’s attention again. “I mean, I have been staying here for a year already”.

One of his hands idly rubbed down the side of his arm, polished armour glistening under the first rays of sun, and Mondatta had to wonder…

Was Genji growing restless about his stay at the monastery? Mondatta was aware that the quiet, sleepy life was not perfect for everyone, especially someone so used to moving and chasing life as Genji was, but if he was considering parting from them…

Yet, Mondatta did not speak –as it was not his place nor his decision to make, and Genji was not one to be restrained against his will.

It had been one of the few things he had requested of Zenyatta, back when he had accepted to stay at the Monastery –that he would be able to leave whenever he wished, without any of the Shambali interfering. It was a way out, the last resort to keep a modicum of control over himself, and Zenyatta had accepted without reservations. Obviously he had not left, but if he was considering doing so now…

Well. A year was a long time to stay put.

“It has been a rather eventful year,” he chose to say instead, a smile evident in his tone. “I don’t think I’ve seen this much liveliness in a long while”.

Genji’s shoulders hitched up in obvious embarrassment, as both knew what sort of ruckus his erratic, wounded presence had caused at first.

“Master says I should not be made to be sorry for something I could not control,” despite the attempt to sound despondent, the warmth in his tone at the mention of Zenyatta betrayed him, and Genji cleared his throat, hurrying to continue. “I…” another long pause, then the sound of Genji swallowing, almost too loud in the quiet. “I find myself in need of… _help_ ”.

Mondatta was nothing if not patient, so he bit back his first question, the obvious one –‘why me? Why not go to Zenyatta, then?’– and instead turned around fully, staring openly at Genji.

He towered over him, as Mondatta was even taller than Zenyatta was, but Genji met his stare without flinching, shoulders squared back in defiance.

For a second, Mondatta allowed himself to keep Genji waiting, then relented with a hum. “If it is something I can do, I will do my best to aid you, Genji”.

It should have been obvious his answer would be positive, and yet Genji appeared to deflate in relief nonetheless.

He had come a long way from those first months of constant suspicion and tension, and yet he still believed himself to be unwanted, even now. Such deeply rooted beliefs were hard to crack.

“I… Thank you, Master Mondatta,” Genji seemed to be gathering himself to ask, and Mondatta waited. A few seconds trickled by before Genji’s pose suddenly slumped. “It is not easy, but I have been thinking for a while now, and… I would like to give Master something, as a token of my appreciation for all his help and support over the past year. I know I have not been as open to suggestion and change as I should have, but his unwavering acceptance and presence meant more to me than I could say”.

As Mondatta had been expecting something entirely different, Genji’s earnest words surprised him.

“Unfortunately I find myself stumped as to what. He…” Genji brought both hands up, demonstrating the depths of his confusion with a dispassionate gesture. “He wants of nothing. He appears content with what little he has, yet accepts what the villagers give him, keeps everything in his room, carved figurines and drawings alike, and I…” he sounded distraught, and it was the most emotion Mondatta had heard in Genji’s tone since he had started meditating successfully to calm himself.

“You wish to give Zenyatta… a gift?”

Genji sighed, tilting his head towards the monastery behind them, then turned to look at Mondatta again.

“Master has given me a lot. This past year feels like a gift in itself, like I am finding not… not just my old self, but a new one that fits…” he brought his hands down, encompassing his body, a gesture of casual acceptance that made Mondatta want to lean forwards and embrace him, though he resisted the temptation. Genji only ever allowed Zenyatta to touch him, and rarely anyone else. “And there is nothing I could think to give him that could compare to that, but… Master Mondatta, you have known him far longer than I have. Is there anything he desires to have? Anything at all?”

“I am rather sorry to say that the things Zenyatta wants are things that hold no shape in the physical realm, Genji,” Mondatta was smiling, brightly at that, both with his tone and with the array lights on his forehead. “Though I am sure you knew that already, even before asking me. Zenyatta right now wants your wellbeing most of all, and is content with being in your presence to guide you. It is not that he has no desires –there are always trinkets and mundane things he wishes to own, but I don’t think you would be satisfied with any of those”.

Mondatta observed Genji’s reactions as he spoke –the way he clenched his hands at first, the tiny startled jolt of his shoulders at the mention of Zenyatta’s concerns focusing on him, then a slow, defeated acceptance.

“I… yes, that is true”. With a groan, Genji rubbed his hands against his visor, and Mondatta knew that if he had been alone he would have pushed that out of the way to rub at his face instead. “Master… he likes old movies, and comedies, and music, but thinking about buying him any of that feels…” he brought his arms open wide. “Stupid. That is not… enough”.

“Your growth and stability are the only gift he’s ever needed,” Mondatta unclasped his hands from behind his back, leaning forwards to add, “though this might be infuriating when all you wish is to find a perfect gift for him, isn’t that right?”

Genji groaned again. “I had hoped you would know him best,” he admitted. “But that does not help me at all”.

“Your quest for a perfect gift is admirable, and I understand why you wish to find something right for him,” Mondatta sighed. “But the easiest answer is always the most complex. Have you considered making something yourself?”

The question once again startled Genji, who looked down at his hands, almost as if unable to understand the proposal. “You mean like… a drawing?” he asked, sounding displeased.

“I do not know how much of an artist you are, Genji, but yes, that is one option,” still smiling, Mondatta turned around, ready to go back inside. “It matters nothing what you choose, but if it is something you made, Zenyatta will appreciate the gesture and the time you spent on it”.

Genji appeared startled, head snapping back at his words, then gave him a sharp, determined nod. “I understand,” he said. “That is… true”.

“I am sorry to say I can’t do much else to help, but I am…” Mondatta hesitated, wondering if it would be wise to finish the thought, then hummed to himself, taking the metaphorical step, “honestly glad you chose to confide yourself in me. Whether you choose to believe me or not, you are welcome here. I do not think there is anyone residing inside this monastery that would not wish to help you… either for your sake, or just to hear Zenyatta laugh, perhaps both at the same time”.

The startled sound that Genji made sounded almost like the start of laughter, but it cut off too quickly for Mondatta to be sure –almost as if Genji, shocked at his own reaction, had silenced himself.

Still, it was a victory.

“I… I see. It is true, Master’s laughter is…” again, Genji cut himself off, shoulders hitching upwards in embarrassment, and Mondatta allowed himself a small, amused chuckle.

“Precious,” he agreed, voicing his own thoughts. “Well, morning meditation approaches, and I must go. Will you be fine on your own?”

“Master will be expecting me,” Genji nodded. “I… thank you, Master Mondatta”.

Mondatta raised one hand in a parting wave, then turned around to leave the gardens, his thoughts lingering briefly over Genji, and Zenyatta, his forehead array burning brightly in a smile, and then–

“Master Mondatta”.

He paused mid-step, waiting for Genji to speak.

“Thank you for your time, and for listening to me,” Genji said, infuriatingly polite, then after a long pause in which Mondatta wondered if they were done, he added, this time with embarrassment colouring his tone, “and I am… glad to be here, too. This place, it…” he trailed off, and this time he did not say anything anymore.

Mondatta felt something in his chest tighten, then loosen, a weight he hadn’t noticed being there suddenly lifted. “Be at peace, Genji. This monastery will be your safe place for as long as you wish it to be, and…” this time it was his turn to pause before finishing the thought, “even longer than that, Zenyatta as well”.

There was a startled sound coming from behind him, but Mondatta did not turn around anymore, thoughts already focused on his coming meditation session.

***

The next time Genji approached Mondatta, it was a week and a half later.

This time, Genji did not take as long to come to him, hesitating and following him from room to room like a forlorn, stubborn child, which made Mondatta feel like he’d made some sort of progress with him.

In fact, Genji only waited long enough for Mondatta to finish his speech with a few visitors before making his way to him, shoulders hunched up.

It was always amusing for Mondatta when others had so much trouble reading Genji’s emotions –to him, his body language was honest enough that one only had to look for tell-tale signs, though of course there were limitations. He was also pretty sure that Zenyatta was far better than him at reading Genji like a book.

As he heard the familiar, soft footsteps come his way, Mondatta hummed. His core made a sound not unlike that of taking a deep breath, and he straightened his back, crossing his fingers in front of himself.

“Master Mondatta…?” Genji stopped a few feet away from him, his tone and posture tense. “I was hoping you could…”

“I have some time before my round to the kitchens,” Mondatta picked up where Genji had trailed off, seamlessly walking up to him. He left enough distance between them so that Genji would not feel uncomfortable. “Did you wish to speak with me about something?” at Genji’s curt nod, Mondatta ventured further, “perhaps it has to do with our last conversation?”

The tension in Genji’s shoulders snapped and uncoiled, not unlike a skittish horse. “I… yes”.

Mondatta allowed himself a small, heartfelt laugh, and he was glad when Genji’s body language did not close off in offense, seemingly accepting his laughter not as mockery but as simple, joyous amusement. “It pleases me to see you are coming to me again, young one,” he said, and it said volumes of Genji’s progress when his words were not rebuked instantly. “Did you have any more trouble with it?”

“Oh, no… I… it is not that,” Genji hurried to follow him as Mondatta started to walk down the corridor of the monastery.

Their footsteps echoed across the stone walls, the clank of Mondatta’s metallic feet louder than the softer tap-tap of Genji’s padded soles.

“Then, have you found the right gift to make for Zenyatta?”

“I… I think so, yes,” Genji let out a soft, derisive huff. “If not, I will have just wasted a significant amount of time that I would have preferred to spend with him instead”.

It was easy to look deeper, past his gruff tone, and see the soft warmth that always seemed to seep into his words whenever Genji spoke about Zenyatta. It was the kind of openness that Genji never displayed on his own, but managed to slip through without him realising it, and it was always because of Zenyatta.

Mondatta saw it, and each and every time felt thankful for Genji’s arrival to the monastery, even if it had taken him some time to learn how to unravel himself.

“I would not say any time spent on a gift is wasted,” Mondatta commented idly. “Besides, we both know that anything you have done will please Zenyatta… most of all since it comes from you”.

A small hitch of breath, followed by a falter in the even pace of Genji’s steps, and Mondatta smiled in his own, omnic way, tilting his head up and squaring his shoulders.

“So, if that is not what you wanted to talk to me about… what is it?”

“Ah… well. I… I would like to place the gift in Zenyatta’s room, but it might take me some time and I was wondering if…” Genji fumbled, out of his depth, and Mondatta turned around to look at him.

“Of course. I am sure the others will find many things to keep Zenyatta occupied for as long as you need it, Genji,” he smiled brightly, so much his forehead array blinked and flared, joy flickering through his circuits at the knowledge that Genji’s care for Zenyatta could push him far enough into asking for help, into sharing something like this, and be comfortable with reaching out to Mondatta. “They will do so gladly”.

“Master is well liked in here,” Genji’s tone still held warmth, but there was also something else there, which Mondatta chose to read as a possessive flare –someone like Genji would find it hard to share, and there were still many things he had yet to learn. It amused Mondatta to no end. “As it should be,” Genji added, quieter, words sharp and daring… like a challenge.

“That much is true,” he agreed, easily, smoothly, and then he continued, “but that would not be the only reason”. He stopped near the entrance to one of the storage rooms. Inside, sister Anya was busy shuffling heavy crates full of provisions to a corner, where she would sort through them. “They would do so also because no matter what you seem to think, people here like _you_ as well, Genji”.

Again, a falter in Genji’s steps, and Mondatta entered the room, attracting Anya’s attention.

She paused, holding a crate of milk cartons in her arms, and waited until Mondatta was in front of her before  placing it down at her feet.

Yet, before he could speak, Genji moved past him, briskly, his back held up straight like a rod, tense and unsure and yet defiant, and approached Anya who looked at him, startled.

“Ah… can I do anything for…?”

And much to Mondatta’s pleasure –much to his _glee_ , even– Genji proceeded to ask Anya for help himself, far too formal and aggressive, yet obviously heartfelt, steely tension melting into relief when Anya instantly agreed, her single forehead array dot flickering purple.

After her, Mondatta could not help but follow Genji as he tentatively approached a few more Shambali members with the same tension in his back, if only to watch in satisfaction as they all agreed to help with the same happy, instant delight.

***

There was always something to do at the monastery.

Day after day, more and more pilgrims seemed to find their way to the Shambali, looking for aid, for an answer, or simply to stare; a lot of visitors, many of which were tourists, piled up at the doors of the temple, and the Shambali rarely turned away someone.

As there had been a few attacks and some visitors’ intentions had been less than pure, the security around the monastery had to be upgraded recently, with added turrets and face-recognition software that helped keep trouble to a minimum, but the number of arrivals still increased, rather than decrease.

There were lessons to tend to, meditation sessions, training and many other kinds of things, errands to run to the village down the road or to gather provisions, entertain guests and turn away those who were not ready to start the path of the Iris.

If that was not enough, one did not have to look too far to find things to do. The gardens required some attention to keep the grounds clean from weeks, water the plants and tend to them, and the kitchens were always in need of more hands. The size of the monastery also meant there were always rooms to clean. Such a big place required a lot of care, and there were always things that broke or malfunctioned.

Even then, Zenyatta was surprised with the amount of help many of his brothers and sisters had needed throughout the day specifically from him.

Sister Anya had asked him to weave new baskets with her, as all their old ones had gone mysteriously missing during the night, and that had taken away more than a few hours.

Zenyatta had been planning to take Genji out with him into the wilderness surrounding the monastery, let him tire himself running freely across the meadows before the weather turned sour again, but his plans had been cut short.

After Anya had let him go, satisfied with her three new baskets, Zenyatta had been whisked away by brother Techa and brother Moran, who had managed to misplace not one, but two precious tomes from the library.

Then, sister Sintha had requested his help with sewing uniforms for the newer recruits, something he had thought had been done already, and after her, every time Zenyatta tried to go find Genji, he had been intercepted and stopped.

The next time he had looked up from peeling potatoes, he had realised he had missed the sunset and most of his meditation sessions, and was thus too late to do… well, anything.

Worse than that, he had not seen Genji at all during the entire day, and the lack of the usual, constant presence of his student left a gaping hole somewhere in Zenyatta’s soul which seemed all the more apparent as he walked through empty corridors to his rooms.

Once he changed out of those soiled, onion-smelling clothes, he would seek Genji out and beg his forgiveness, and he hoped Genji had not been looking forwards to their trip out of the monastery, though Zenyatta had little hope about that.

Genji was a free spirit –the kind who roamed far and wide and could not be restrained unless by his own choice– and Zenyatta feared that keeping him coped inside the monastery for too long would stifle him, rather than help.

There was a pace for everything, and with Genji, the right pace was that of a strong wind, unyielding yet soft, gently leading but never fierce enough to harm.

In fact, if Zenyatta had to be honest (and with himself, that posed no problem), their weekly outings were something that brought him solace as well. The monastery was his home, comfortable and constant, but it was, at the same time, a tiny fragment frozen in time, unchanging, and Zenyatta’s soul sang for the vast, endless sights outside just as much as Genji’s did.

It was with idle thoughts of making up for a lost day that Zenyatta finally reached his rooms, the aches of the day soothed by the thought that soon he would see Genji again, but as he made to step inside, he collided against someone coming out from his room.

It was Genji.

Zenyatta’s fans kicked up a little at the sudden contact and he drew back, circuits whirring softly as his optical sensors focused on Genji’s visor.

“Ah, Genji! I was about to change and come to find you… were you looking for me?”

It took Zenyatta a mere glance to notice the increased tension in his pupil’s shoulders, the way his head was tilted back to his room, as if he kept glancing that way, and Zenyatta sighed. The sound attracted Genji’s attention instantly, his head snapping towards him.

“I had not planned to spend so much time working,” Zenyatta admitted, fingers caressing the hem of his dirty clothes, but his optical sensors never left Genji’s face. “I must apologize if today we have had no time to spend together, Genji… I know you were looking forwards to our trip out and so did I, but…”

“No!” Genji’s interruption was so surprising Zenyatta fell silent, forehead array flickering to show his surprise, head tilted back. “I… I mean, it is no trouble, Master. I know you are not the kind of person who can turn the other way if someone comes to you, asking for help”.

There was warmth there, a fondness that Zenyatta found himself looking forwards to hear whenever they spoke –so different from their first months together, when Genji would only offer him words full of spite and sourness.

“That is nice of you to say, but you do not need to lie. I can see you are troubled,” Zenyatta brought one hand up, fingers splayed apart, and Genji fidgeted, looking so open and conflicted that Zenyatta felt his core go out to him. “Maybe tomorrow the weather will still be as nice as it was today, though I admit, I spent all day indoors, and I did not get to enjoy any of it…”

“That… I would love to go, tomorrow that is, but this is not why I’m…” again, a small falter, and Zenyatta found himself confused, as for once, Genji’s reactions made no sense, if he was not disappointed due to their missed outing. “Master I…” he glanced around the corridor, a fleeting gesture, before he brought his hand up to remove his visor. Not the entire mask, just part of it, but the show of trust was enough to make Zenyatta’s core flutter. “This is ridiculous,” Genji murmured to himself, in his native language, looking down at the visor he was holding with a small frown. When he looked back up, his eyes appeared entirely focused on him, so much that Zenyatta felt almost destabilized by the seriousness he could read in them, and in Genji’s pose. “Master, it’s been a year since I arrived here”.

Zenyatta hummed at that, curiosity mixed with a sliver of worry –then he culled that thought process before it fully realised itself within his mind.

“A year that went by quickly, and I hope you found some more peace with each day passing by, my student,” he found himself saying, steady words in a calm, pleased tone.

“That I do, and I could have never managed any of that without your guidance, master,” Genji spoke with such certainty that Zenyatta surged forwards, pressing one hand delicately, so delicately, against Genji’s chest, right where his core and heart were.

“All I had to do was offer you a chance, but everything you became until today, and everything you will become in the future, is your own doing, Genji. Do not discount all your hard work, and all your pain, for all I did was be there for you, and I hope… I hope, perhaps selfishly, to be able to be there in the future as well, to see you fully realise yourself into who you are meant to be”.

Genji’s shoulders shook slightly, Zenyatta’s words like a soothing balm on him, and he hesitantly reached out to place his hand on top of Zenyatta’s, metal against metal, in a gentle, careful touch.

It was still difficult, such a leap of faith, and yet it was so easy for Genji to let himself fall when it came to Zenyatta. To reach out, and seek and want for himself, for his own sake.

Zenyatta always made even the hardest things seem worth the effort, including asking for help to make him happy.

“Master, I… I hope the same thing, and… please do not say you did nothing. Even if you just were at my side, that would have been enough to warrant my thanks, but… you did so much more than that, and… I could never be able to find the right words to thank you, and yet…”

Genji pushed back, but his grip on Zenyatta’s hand never faltered, tugging him along.

Zenyatta went willingly, confused yet curious, warmth seeping from their shared contact as he allowed Genji to pull him to his room.

One step, two, and then Zenyatta passed the threshold of his bedroom, and there he stood, fans whirring loudly into action as he stared around him in awe.

Every surface of his room was covered with delicate, blooming lotus flowers. There were so many of them that Zenyatta could barely see the pavement, or the carpets on the floor, or even the surface of the table and the small shelves on the walls.

Zenyatta took one hesitant, small step forwards, and knelt next to the closest flower, fingers stretching out to touch its petals only to draw back in surprise as his optical sensors recalibrated to the lowered light of the room, finally allowing him to realise that none of the flowers were real.

They were thinly pressed and folded origami, intricate in detail and beautiful.

“… Gen–ji?” embarrassed with the way his voice box broke Genji’s name, Zenyatta picked up one of the flowers and rose to his feet, turning around to look at him.

He felt… there was a weird, impossibly tight pressure inside his chest, right above his core, and his thought processes were slower, almost sluggish as he held the delicate origami paper against his chassis, unable to let go of it.

“Did you do… all of this?”

“I… yes,” there was the tiniest hint of a flush in the small window of visible skin Zenyatta could see of his face, betraying Genji’s embarrassment, but Zenyatta did not know why he would feel embarrassed at all. Such a gesture was nothing to feel shame for.

“Did you do these… for me?”

Genji looked at him sharply, chin jutted out in defiance, and his reply this time was surer. “Yes. They are for you, master. I… it took me a whole week of working when we were not together, so… uh… I might have skipped a few hours of meditation to be able to do it all as soon as possible, but…” Genji looked down at the lotus Zenyatta was holding, then back to his face. “It felt important I could finish it by today, since… it’s been a year. Today. I have lived here with you for that long, and I wanted to be able to properly express my thanks for all you have done for me so far, master”.

Zenyatta could not see beneath the rest of Genji’s mask, but by his tone, and the crinkle of his eyes, he knew Genji was smiling –the hesitant, gentle smile he had only seen once before, but that was carved within his neural pathways, never to be forgotten.

Surrounded by so much sheer beauty, with the knowledge that Genji had done it all for him, Zenyatta found himself at loss of words.

The pressure inside his chest was not painful, and yet it was heavy, heady, and Zenyatta felt destabilised, as if too many processes were being handled incorrectly by his brain, circuits running slow even when there were not that many.

The bubbling happiness he felt, rushing upwards and making him almost giddy, was intoxicating, and the thought of that soft smile on Genji’s face, once again directed at him, with a tangible, visible proof of Genji’s care and his progress scattered on every inch of his room, was too much.

Zenyatta looked away from him, and instead stared at the sea of flowers surrounding them, each one perfectly folded and beautiful in its forever bloom.

He stepped forwards, feet shuffling around to avoid stepping on the flowers, and the further he walked, the more he felt like he could dance, no way to escape the giddiness blooming as brightly within him as these flowers were.

So much beauty, all around him, and all of it belonged to Genji.

Zenyatta let his optical sensors move from one delicate flower to the next, all of them nearly identical and all perfectly made, a soft, fond chuckle escaping him at the thought of Genji spending so much time making them, and then–

–he noticed something different perched on top of the stool he used as a ‘bed’ to recharge at night.

There, as if waiting to flap its wings and fly, was a tiny, brown origami bird –a sparrow– gently placed by one of the books Zenyatta had been reading that week.

Zenyatta must have made some sort of sound, though he was not aware of it, because Genji was at his side, hesitant but still smiling, and then there was Genji’s hand on his arm, grounding him.

“Master Mondatta suggested to do something with my hands,” was the easy admission, as if Genji was not saying how he had spoken to Mondatta (and when had he? Zenyatta could not think of a time when Genji had been away from him) and had taken a suggestion from him, as if that was not such a huge thing for Genji to do– “but I have… no particular skills into creating anything. It is far easier to destroy, for me. And yet… I could do this. I’ve known all my life how to do these. I used to make them when I was a child, although they were nothing as refined as these”.

“Genji, I… I do not know what to say. These are so many… it must be at least two… if not three hundred origami flowers in here,” Zenyatta could not look away, but he found his optical sensors returning to Genji every few seconds. “To be able to make so many in such little time…”

“There are three hundred and sixty-five pieces,” Genji admitted, sounding both sheepish and satisfied, one hand coming up to scratch at the base of his visor, embarrassed yet content with Zenyatta’s obvious awe. “I… I wanted to make one for each day I have spent here with you, master. I do not think I would have been able to sit still and make even one before, so that is yet another thing I have to thank you for, and…” he pointed at the tiny bird, unassuming between the sea of flowers, “that one, I know how much you enjoy metaphors, so I am sure you can find the right meaning yourself”.

Zenyatta’s joyous, melodic laughter echoed around them like music, and Genji grinned underneath his mask, so relieved Zenyatta seemed to appreciate his gift that it made him feel light headed, and the happiness was still so foreign that it only seemed to exist whenever he thought about his master.

Then Zenyatta spoke again, his tone shifting to something softer, gentler, and welcoming.

“I might have trouble finding somewhere to place all these flowers, but I will keep this bird with me. I hope the sparrow it represents knows that he can fly as far and as high as he needs and wishes to, but he will always have a home right here to come back to”.

And if Zenyatta meant at his side, or in the monastery, or both, he did not specify, nor was there any need to.

Genji understood perfectly, anyway.

***

–*–*–

***

Genji’s eyelids fluttered before opening, his consciousness resurfacing slowly.

His body felt heavy, and as he shifted around on the bed, trying to muster up the energy to worry why he was so tired, the movement sent a wave of pain up to his brain.

He stilled instantly, blinking and focusing his sight on the ceiling, and waited for the pain to recede enough that he could think.

It was not the familiar ceiling of his personal rooms at the headquarters, nor was it the similar, yet distinctly different, one of Zenyatta’s own room, which Genji had grown familiar with over the course of the months the two of them had spent familiarising with OverWatch, sharing spaces together with the rest of the recalled team.

It was, Genji’s mind slowly supplied him, the infirmary ceiling.

Not as familiar, but enough for him to recognise the pattern of the tiles and the lights, including a chipped brick towards the angle where ceiling met wall, at his right.

Not willing to analyse too closely why he was at the infirmary, Genji chose instead to focus on his breathing, eyes fluttering close again.

His body ached. The few muscles he had left hurt and itched, and his mechanical parts whirred and protested differently, the feeling not unlike that of old, rusty metal forced to move after a long time sitting under the sun.

He groaned –a small, displeased sound– and then made himself open his eyes again. Genji studied the ceiling for a little longer, then finally gave up and tried to think, focusing on what could have happened to him.

After a few seconds of nothing, his mind started to clear, and he remembered. He remembered the mission, fighting alongside Zenyatta and Jesse, and then the ambush, and…

Genji made a small, aborted motion with his arm and regretted it instantly, as pain flared up his joints and he gritted his teeth, fingers clenching down instinctively to grip what he was holding.

As the pain receded, Genji was able to focus again, this time on his hand. He ran his fingers delicately on the curved surface of the object he was holding, the sensitive pads of his fingers recognising the swirls and patterns belonging to one of Zenyatta’s orbs.

Oh.

He was holding one of his mala.

That, more than anything else, allowed Genji to fully relax –if he was holding it, then it meant Zenyatta was fine and had been at his side long enough to give him an orb, and the relief he felt was so deep he took a shaky breath.

Almost as if reacting to him, the mala warmed up in his hand, and the soft warmth of Zenyatta’s healing touch seeped through Genji’s body from his arm up, soothing the pain away into a manageable dull throb.

Genji smiled absently, soaking in the pleasant feeling of the Iris as it flew through him, familiar with how many times Zenyatta had used it to heal and help Genji, long before they had answered OverWatch’s recall.

A few seconds later, mind clearer than before, Genji realised that the mala’s activation meant Zenyatta had to be close, so he dared to shuffle a bit in bed, pleased when he felt no more pain at the movement, and pushed himself up to his elbows.

The shift caused something soft to roll off his chest and down to his lap, and Genji blinked, looking down.

Paper cranes.

Dozen paper cranes, not all of them neatly folded and yet perfectly recognizable, were scattered on his bed and all over Genji’s body.

They were everywhere, and as Genji shifted some more, he watched a couple of them fall off the bed and onto the ground. He followed them with his eyes, and was surprised to see even more cranes.

There were many on the floor, and just as many on the bedside table, artistically surrounding some get-well cards and a glass of water.

Not understanding what he was looking at, Genji turned his head to the other side of the bed, and was startled to see Zenyatta’s motionless, slumped form sitting on a chair at his side, forehead array glowing a dull blue like a soft heartbeat, on and off and on again. Zenyatta was offline, resting or recharging, but his presence at Genji’s side was like a balm to his soul.

It meant Zenyatta had been there for who knew how long, and had wanted to stay at Genji’s side even when he was unconscious, probably hurt, and it meant he was alive and well enough to _be there_ and…

Genji sighed quietly, relief flooding him.

He could not forgive himself for going down during a mission, even if the ambush had been unexpected and the three of them had been outnumbered and taken by surprise, but the thought of being unable to be there to make sure Zenyatta was fine, and to help him and Jesse fight…

His eyes fell to his lap once again, to the orb he was holding, and then to the cranes surrounding him.

There were so many of them, how…?

“Genji…?”

With a soft whirring noise, Zenyatta was startled from his recharging cycle, forehead array flickering before stabilizing, and then Zenyatta moved, one arm reaching out to touch Genji’s face, metal cold against Genji’s feverish face.

“You are awake, my dear,” Zenyatta sounded tired, weary, but his voice was warm and full of wonder, and Genji leaned into the touch, pleased and seeking the contact. “I was worried I would get to sit here for yet another day to watch you sleep”.

“It would not be the first time you have been at my bedside,” Genji replied automatically, teasing to dispel the clear worry in Zenyatta’s tone, relieved when Zenyatta chuckled.

“That much is true, and yet it does not make it any less hard”.

The quiet admission was followed by a long sigh, and Genji, despite his tired body, felt the first stirring of worry at how tired and weary Zenyatta sounded.

“How long have I been…?”

“Three days,” was the reply, and Zenyatta continued to caress his cheek softly, fingers steady. “It was no grievous damage done to you, but it did impact on your cognitive circuits, and it was uncertain how long it would take your body to recover”.

Genji hummed. “Were you by my side all this time, then?”

“Of course. No one could have moved me even if they had wanted to,” Zenyatta leaned forwards with his front, enough to lean on Genji’s side and press his forehead against the side of Genji’s head. A lick of omnic energy passed between them in a kiss before Zenyatta moved away again, slowly, but his hand remained where it was. “They did try”.

“What are these…?” Genji moved his free hand to address the multitude of cranes surrounding him, and Zenyatta tittered, the noise of his fans whirring loud in the silence of the room.

“I have heard that it was custom, centuries ago, to fold paper into cranes to be granted a wish,” Zenyatta’s voice was as even as always, as if sharing something obvious. “I must admit I did not manage to make a thousand, but I feel as if I was given my wish regardless of their number, as you _did_ wake up”.

With a soft, breathless laugh, Genji jutted his chin out, and Zenyatta moved to him once again, recognising the small motion for what it was, and offered his facial plate for Genji to kiss. Genji did so, his lips leaving small, butterfly kisses all over its surface.

“There’s so many of them… did you spend three days making all of these? Who gave you the paper…?” somewhat rejuvenated by both Zenyatta’s presence, his gentle caress and the orb he was still holding in his hand, Genji looked around the room once again, his eyes falling to Zenyatta’s body long enough to finally notice a dissonance, and his thoughts came to an abrupt halt. “… Zenyatta. Where is your right arm?”

Zenyatta leaned back, his hand letting go of Genji’s face, and the absence of his arm became even more noticeable to Genji now that he could see him better.

Panic gripped his insides and he reached out blindly with his hand, seeking the contact that Zenyatta had just severed, and he grabbed his remaining hand into his own, clenching down on it with as much strength as he could muster.

“Do not fret, my dear, the arm is in the hands of our friends. They have been waiting for me to agree to let them reattach it”.

“I…?” Genji shook his head, confused and not understanding. “Why would you not…?”

“The circuits and connectors of my torso were badly severed during our fight, and I would have had to leave your side for them to work on me, so I made them wait until you woke up”.

Zenyatta sounded so serene, as if he hadn’t been in pain until then, keeping vigil at Genji’s side for three days, folding paper with only one hand…

“It is not as bad as you think, Genji,” Zenyatta’s voice interrupted his thoughts before they could run astray, the hand he was holding twisting around in his grip until their fingers intertwined together. “It simply was not a priority of mine. I was missing something far greater for these past three days than a mere limb”.

Stuttering slightly at the admission, Genji closed his eyes and deflated, crumbling on the hospital bed, and Zenyatta went down with him, as if there had been no questioning about it, and no chance for them to be separated now that Genji was awake once more.

Genji shuffled backwards a little, biting down on his lower lip and carefully letting go of the mala, which hovered in the air between them before joining the others around Zenyatta’s neck as the omnic slid in bed against Genji, their bodies pressing tightly together as they worked around until they were comfortable under the covers.

Exhausted despite having been awake for only a few minutes, Genji allowed his eyes to rest on Zenyatta’s faceplate, on the familiar and loved curves of his face, and pressed their foreheads together, kissing the tilt of Zenyatta’s mouth piece until he felt Zenyatta respond, omnic energy flickering against his lips, electrifying and intense on his skin.

“Please do attempt not to get hurt like this,” Zenyatta murmured, soft and open and hesitant, his remaining hand still intertwined tightly with Genji’s own. “The sight of your unresponsive body is not one I would want to see anytime soon, if ever again”.

“I would have to say the same,” Genji’s other hand reached around Zenyatta’s back, feeling the lack of his other arm keenly as it made his love’s frame even more frail. “Will you let them work on you now?”

“After we rest, Genji,” Zenyatta still sounded tired, and Genji was reminded that he had found him sleeping earlier. “I do feel much better now, with you in my… arm”.

The attempt to joke managed to get Genji to snort, and he closed his eyes, chasing sleep with the help of the familiar sound of Zenyatta’s core humming.

Soon afterwards, Zenyatta joined him, forehead array dimming once again in a resting heartbeat pulse.

Around them, like silent spirits, the cranes guarded their sleep.


End file.
